Taeil loves the atmosphere of tattoo parlors.

The sharp scent of the ink, the eardrum-tickling buzz of the machines, the feeling of nervousness and excitement twisting into adrenaline in his belly as he sits in the waiting room with shaking hands.

It’s a feeling he loves, and an environment he thrives in, always has. Some of his closest friends are either artists that have worked on him or other patrons he’d met waiting to get called onto the floor.

Kyung seems to be no different.

He’s sitting next to Taeil on the vibrant red leather couch, his shoes tapping incessantly against the scuffed linoleum floor.

His big eyes are flitting around the room rapidly, never settling on any one thing for longer than a few seconds. His hands are squeezed together in his lap, skin shining with anxious sweat, but his smile is broad and toothy, anticipation staining his cheeks red.

Taeil reaches over to lay a steady hand on Kyung’s knee, halting it’s movement and drawing Kyung’s attention away from the blown up posters on the wall displaying some of the shop’s work.

"Excited?"

Kyung’s smile becomes marginally softer, more intimate as he turns to more fully face Taeil.

"Yeah," he breathes.

Taeil starts to open his mouth, another question on the tip of his tongue, but’s he’s cut off by the door to the back of the shop opening, a bearded man with full, colorful sleeves stepping out halfway.

"Park Kyung?"

Kyung sits still beside him, silent, so Taeil stands first, pulling him up by the hand.

"Here," he smiles.

The man smiles back, charming dimples carved into his pock-marked cheeks, and he beckons them back with a wave of his hand.

Kyung’s eyes are closed when Taeil looks back, and Taeil can’t help but grin at Kyung’s nervousness.

He remembers his first tattoo.

"Ready?"

Kyung’s eyes snap open, a shaky grin on his lips, and Taeil takes that as a yes.

He pulls Kyung through the door.

~~~

The floor looks just as Taeil remembers it.

Three leather recliners line the far wall, four on the side the currently stood on, and the tables beside each sagged under the weight of all the equipment piled onto them,

Machines, tiny pots of ink in every color imaginable, boxes of latex gloves and rolls of paper towels and antibacterial wipes.

Only one station is occupied, the furthest one from the door, and the man on the chair seems to be asleep as the young woman beside him works on adding shadows and depth to what seems to be a child’s face on his bicep.

She shoots them a grin and gestures towards the other side of the room, where the man with the dimples sat wiping his station down, humming jauntily to the American rap song on the radio.

Kyung walks ahead of Taeil to the chair, his shoulders back and chin up, and Taeil does nothing but smile and follow.

Kyung shakes hands with the artist, introducing himself and Taeil without a tremor to his voice. He seems to have gained some of his famous confidence back and Taeil can’t help the swelling of his chest, pride warming his blood.

Kyung doesn’t even hesitate when the man asks him to remove his shirt, straddling the chair and leaning chest down onto the chilly leather. He shivers, and Taeil takes a moment to appreciate the way the pale skin ripples over his back.

He pulls a chair from the wall and sits it backwards behind the chair, wanting to laugh at the sheer excitement on Kyung’s face.

That excitement doesn’t fade as the artist explains the procedure, though he does pull a pout when he’s given an estimated time frame. Taeil merely smirks and lightly taps his cheek in a pale imitation of a slap.

He refrains from pointing out that his chest piece alone had taken a full week of recurring visits before it was done.

The little had never really been the patient one, to be fair.

Kyung jumps when the man starts wiping his shoulder with one of the wipes, and his laugh is shot through with nerves this time around.

Taeil taps his cheek again, wishing he had the freedom to kiss it instead.

~~~

The first few minutes of the tattooing process are the best, in Taeil’s experience.

The sting is minimal and the vibrations are hardly irritating to start with, and it’s easy to ignore for awhile. Kyung had made a face when the needle had first penetrated the skin, his mouth twisting in displeasure, but after a few moments he relaxed again, a relieved expression on his face.

"Not that bad, huh?" Taeil smiles knowingly at the dopey look on Kyung’s face as he lifts his head from where he’d lain it against the recliner’s headrest.

Kyung hums in reply, his posture screaming relaxation and ease.

It’s around the one hour mark that the strain begins to show.

Tension has been seeping into Kyung’s shoulders for the past twenty minutes, and his hand had gripped Taeil’s around the same time. Taeil simply gripped it back, occasionally swiping Kyung’s bangs out of his face.

The tattoo itself wasn’t that big, not even the length of Taeil’s hand, but the coloring was gonna take awhile. Filling in the numbers would take the longest amount of time.

By the time the tattoo was finished Kyung’s grip on Taeil’s hand was borderline painful, and Taeil occupied himself by gently shushing the other man’s breathy whimpers as they escaped. The closest he got to outright affection was cupping Kyung’s cheek in his palm, wiping the sweat clinging to his hairline, but he didn’t dare take it any farther than that.

Kyung seemed to appreciate it nonetheless, if the way he smiled at Taeil as he inspected to reddened area on his shoulder, now black with ink, in the full-length mirror next to the door after he’d been given permission to stand up and look.

The artist prattled on about proper care techniques behind them, all of which Taeil knew by heart by now, as Taeil helped Kyung back into his shirt, mindful of the gauze.

That date was now in Kyung’s skin, inked there forever for all to see. It sent a thrill through Taeil’s body, and he fought himself hard to keep from kissing the daylights out of Kyung in the middle of the floor, witnesses be damned.

After thanking the artist and shaking his hand, Taeil walked over to where Kyung had drifted off. He stood in front of one of the posters, this one of a man so covered in tattoos his body looked like a walking tapestry. As Kyung appraised the artwork, his eyes glittering, Taeil didn’t fight the smirk from taking over his lips.

They’d be back. He knew it.